Almost Lost
by JuliaBC
Summary: WDZ. Diego recalls a fairy tale and decides to reenact it with Ricardo, without Senor del Amo's knowledge. The consequences are not what Diego planned, and somewhat disastrous. My entry for Inuvik's friendship challenge.
1. Diego

Almost Lost-by JuliaBC

My entry for Inuvik's friendship challenge.

This takes place between The Flaming Arrow and Zorro Fights a Duel. Some events that happen clash just a teensy bit with the events in the latter episode.

While I know that some will write their stories and place all blame on Ricardo, I decided to take a different route, knowing that Diego's capacity for immaturity is definitely equal to Ricardo's.

* * *

It was too late before Diego decided that he'd made a mistake. With a grunt, he again tested the manacles around his wrists and only succeeded in yanking Ricardo.

Ricardo—what a person to be stuck with!

Diego would never have chosen Ricardo as companion in a situation like this—but the thing was, he had.

It was entirely his fault that Ricardo was the man with him. Partly his fault that he had to listen to the insults Ricardo aimlessly hurled to their surroundings. Completely his fault that no one would look for them, even if a day passed. _No,_ Diego thought grimly, _I made sure of that!_ And it had all started because Diego had recalled a fairy tale and decided to be the proverbial woodcutter.

* * *

"Ricardo, you know how you've been talking about finding a place for a picnic? One where water is nearby? I think I've found a place. It's a half day's ride, but worth it, and the ride itself is pleasant enough."

Ricardo looked surprised at Diego's approach, but his face soon turned to speculation instead. "It's pretty? Lots of trees?"

"Beautiful!" Diego stretched the word out and an appreciate gleam stole into Ricardo's eyes.

"You think Anna Maria would agree to something like that? After all, she's still rather angry with me."

Diego shrugged, pulled out a chair and sat down. As he signaled for a bottle of wine, he spoke. "You still owe her an apology, and you owe her cousin both an apology and an explanation. Expressing penitence to both women would go a long way in smoothing things."

Ricardo grinned into his wine glass. "Who says I want to smooth things?"

And Diego's half-hearted plan was set in stone as irritation slammed into him at Ricardo's sly words. The caballero needed to learn a lesson! An even bigger one that Zorro had given him! Because it was obvious that any effects of that lesson were quickly wearing off.

"Ricardo," Diego began, more sharply than he'd intended and Ricardo looked up slowly.

"Ricardo," Diego repeated, "I don't—"

"That's right, Diego, and keep it that way. I'll go with you tomorrow to preview it but currently, I am in no mood to be lectured. Give my regards to your father."

With that said—in a tone that showed Ricardo was just as irritated with Diego as Diego was with Ricardo—he left the tavern much more quickly than was his custom, going, Diego suspected and hoped, back to his cousin's house.

Bernardo came down; perhaps he'd been waiting for Ricardo to leave. With a series of smooth motions, he signed that—

"My father is waiting for me? And getting impatient? All right, Bernardo, I'm coming."

Diego stood and walked up the stairs, pausing, for a moment at the top, to consider Ricardo's abrupt departure. He reached up absently, rubbing his neck, and then shrugged away any reservations. Ricardo would be himself again tomorrow, of that Diego was sure.

And unfortunately, he was.

* * *

"Diego, I will leave without you!" Ricardo announced, sitting beside Diego as he ate breakfast. "You were the one to suggest this excursion, and now, you aren't even ready! To think I cancelled a very lovely senorita's offer of a ride to watch you eat breakfast!"

Diego refused to let his temper rise, instead saying mildly, "I never said we'd leave at the crack of dawn, Ricardo."

"The crack of dawn was a long time ago, in case you haven't noticed," Ricardo retorted, but settled down and signaled for the waitress. "I will have the same thing he has,_ por favor_."

"Si, senor. Just a moment." The waitress scurried off and Ricardo turned back to Diego. "So, when are we leaving?"

"Not yet. You must eat your breakfast," Diego began. "Besides, I also promised my father I'd speak with him before leaving. Business, you know. There's a cattle auction coming up tomorrow and he wants my opinion of what to buy."

"Oh, all right," Ricardo assented, as a steaming hot plate was set before him. "I suppose I can wait that much longer."

Diego only rolled his eyes as he left the table, and tried to ignore Ricardo's one-sided conversation with the waitress. He hurried up the stairs, Alejandro was already waiting for him in his room, and Bernardo was in the background, folding clothes.

"Buenos dias, father. Did you sleep well?"

"As a matter of fact, I did not, but that is not my concern. What is this I hear about you spending the day with Ricardo? What about the auction?"

"The auction is tomorrow, father, not today, and besides, you won't really need me there, will you?"

"I suppose not, but what exactly are you doing that will keep you busy for the rest of the day?"

"We are going to San Javier, to the river. It is half a day's ride, but we think it a good place for a picnic and would like to make sure of it before bringing…guests." He changed his words at the last second, because of the disbelieving look that was spreading over Alejandro's face.

"Half a day's ride for a picnic that may not even happen?!"

"Father, how I spend my time is—"

"Your own business. No, I understand, my son." A strange light had come into Alejandro's eyes and now he patted Diego on the shoulder. "Go ahead." Leaving a puzzled Diego, he hurried to the door, then paused and turned around. "You've been here longer than I, Diego. Which candy maker is better, Senora Raimundo or Juan Cerillo?"

"Both are excellent, but I think Senora Raimundo's is the way to go if you wish to impress. Uh—why, father?"

"I want to get the best deal possible for those steers and I've heard that Dona Rosaria has a sweet tooth." With those words, Alejandro slipped from the room, and then a second later returned. "If you are going in that direction, you should take this. "

And to Diego's surprise, Alejandro shoved a pistol into his hands. "There are banditos in those hills, hiding among the rocks." And Alejandro flew from the room again, slamming the door.

Bernardo hurried up to Diego, hands flying.

"Yes, I noticed how strange he was acting. Will I be gone all day? Yes, I will. You see, this picnic is a cover for my real plan—to lose Ricardo in the woods!"

Bernardo's eyebrows shot far up.

"Or, I'll try to," Diego amended his original statement. "Ricardo doesn't know the area terribly well and I just thought it would be awfully convenient for him to disappear for a few days. In fact, I already told Anna Maria that he would be visiting his grandmother."

Bernardo's eyes remained puzzled and surprised as he signed his next words. "Hansel—and Gretel. Yes, I was reading that. Luckily, I think Ricardo would eat any breadcrumbs left behind. I may be gone for quite some time, for though _I_ don't intend to go all the way to San Javier, it may take a while to lose Ricardo. What? Do I plan to leave him there?" A moment passed as Diego considered his answer, then:

"Yes."

* * *

When they hit the proverbial road—for they were actually cutting cross country—Diego had settled on the ruse he planned to use, and had already dropped subtle hints that would aid him later when he made his escape from Ricardo. Senor del Amo was being uncharacteristically quiet; not saying much, but still whistling occasionally. It struck Diego what tune Ricardo was whistling and he turned in the saddle to face him. "Where did you learn that song, anyway? Milana seemed very impressed, and even Anna Maria seemed to think it nice. She admitted that to me the next day."

"The next—oh! Oh, oh…the tune is one of an old lullaby and I simply wrote the lyrics myself based on where Milana lives and what she—and how I thought Zorro would think."

Diego wondered why Ricardo had changed his words, but didn't comment because his attention was taken by a bird's loud cry, which sounded close, too close. Startled, he looked up just in time to duck when a bird came screeching at his head. He threw up his hands to beat it off, sighing in relief when the bird—he hadn't gotten much of a look, so he had no idea what kind it was—relented and flew away again. He cautiously lowered his arms and looked at his companion in disbelief.

"What in the world was that about?" Ricardo inquired, looking—for the first time in all the years Diego had known the man—shocked, and even a touch of fear was in his motions as he looked up at the sky, to make sure no other birds were coming.

"Could you tell what type of bird it was?" Diego asked, and Ricardo shook his head.

"Even if it wasn't going so fast, I probably couldn't have told you. You know I can't tell an eagle from a—a—what are you doing?"

Diego was scanning the sky, and the horizon, now knowing what he was looking for. "Only a falcon attacks like that," he said grimly. "In Spain, I once stayed with a family of falconers. I even did a bit myself. I got to know the bird's habits and techniques rather well and I got to see falconers in action up close. Unless I'm mistaken, that bird was sent to attack us! Quick, look with me in the direction she went. Do you see anything?"

After a moment of carefully scrutinizing the landscape, Ricardo shook his head. "I'm sorry, no, Diego."

Diego shrugged. "I wasn't expecting you to. Gracias. Let's keep riding."

* * *

After about thirty minutes of tense, silent riding, both men loosened up and started talking again. Diego had mostly forgotten his plan—it only lurked in the back of his brain as a vague idea that the bridge was coming up—and was almost enjoying himself. The friction that had characterized his and Ricardo's sojourn in Monterey had melted away, leaving only the boyish camaraderie, a feeling that lasted until Ricardo, in the middle of telling a tale that was certainly not true, brought up—of all topics—Zorro.

"Come, Ricardo, don't speak of him. We were getting along so well."

"I'm sorry, Diego, but I want your opinion of an idea that I have. You've known Zorro—or at least, his work—a lot longer than I have."

Diego sighed and ruffled his hair, not liking where this was going. "What is your idea?"

"Zorro cares much about his reputation. When he—came…to my…hanging…he was more concerned that I'd impersonated him than in seeing justice done. He takes pride in who he is and would never—I think I saw it! Come on, Diego!"

Diego, who'd been avoiding making eye contact with Ricardo, jerked up his head at the exclamation. "What—"

But Ricardo was already galloping away, urging his horse towards a passage in the rocks surrounding them. It was a pass much like the one Zorro left to leave the box canyon. The horse and his rider soon disappeared. _What is beyond it? _Diego thought in a panic.

He urged his horse forward, withdrawing his gun as he rode, feeling grateful that he'd listened to his father and brought it along.

As he neared the passage, he wondered what he'd find on the other side.

And when he came out, a startling sight met his eyes. Ricardo crouched on the ground—had he been knocked off his horse?—looking up at the two men who stood stationed above him. One hold a gun and leveled it at Ricardo. The other was holding a knife to the throat of a terrified looking girl, but when he saw Diego, he let her go, and she collapsed, sobbing, on the ground.

"Dismount, senor," the bandito commanded.

Diego did so, making no secret of the fact that he held a gun. "What do you want? I carry no money."

The girl struggled to her feet. Strangely, the men ignored her. "Please, senor, they'll kill me."

_What am I supposed to do? What did I stumble on?_ It was then he noticed the bird cage behind the banditos.

The girl had scrambled away from the men, rushing up to his side and laying a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and was struck by her eyes. Her hand moved up his arm as she spoke. "Just—just a few pesos, please, senor."

"And then—" Suddenly the girl's expression changed; a fierceness entering it as she clamped her hand over his mouth—he noticed too late she held a handkerchief. Something invaded his senses and he staggered. The sun seemed too bright; the gun was ripped from his hands, and he heard Ricardo shout. The next thing he knew, he was in chains.

* * *

A/N: Because I hand wrote this, the other two installments I don't have ready yet. I'm tired of typing so it will be tomorrow at the earliest before I get back to this.

I leave it to the reader's discretion as to whether the girl and the two banditos were Lupita(the fortuneteller) and her compadres, or Moneta from the Iron Box and her parejas.

Hansel and Gretel was published by the Grimm Brothers in 1812. I don't know whether Diego would have actually read it, but decided it _was _possible and left it in.


	2. Ricardo

Almost Lost-Part Two

* * *

He'd seen it, he'd seen the bird again. Without thinking he set off after it in heavy pursuit. His eyes fixed on his prey, he ducked through a canyons entrance and straightened up just in time to be knocked off his horse by a rope, strung between two trees that stood at either side of the entrance like sentries.

The breath whooshed out of him as he thumped to the ground, flat on his back. His horse slowed in front of him, he heard it whinny as if in response.

Then there was a foot on his chest, belonging to a swarthy bandito, who pointed a gun at his head and hissed, "Not a word."

Ricardo watched as two others revealed themselves; another man and a slip of a woman. She was more than passably pretty, and there was something about her that caused the breath to pause on its way to Ricardo's mouth. She just possessed something that made you stop thinking.

Just as he'd cleared his head, Diego rode in and Ricardo watched helplessly as the banditos played their game. Diego staggered, and as he did, the girl raced off as if to fetch something; she returned with two sets of manacles and chain. Ricardo suspected that those manacles had formerly chained their captors.

Ricardo and Diego were escorted to a tree, then chained on opposite sides. Ricardo was facing away from the tree, but Diego looked towards it; because of Diego's lack of balance, it kept pulling taut on Ricardo's side.

"Where is your money?" The girl finally spoke, frustrated, as they finished going through Diego's pockets and saddlebags. "I don't understand this—he has nothing! Not even a watch!"

"Search the other!" The swarthy one commanded to the other man, and soon his fingers were digging through Ricardo's pockets.

"I don't have anything," Ricardo drawled, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Aha, got…something," his hand emerged from Ricardo's pants pocket with a hairpin. In disgust, he cast it to the ground. Ricardo watched it land and noted its position, hoping the man wouldn't shift it when he moved. "No, he doesn't have anything either. Madre di dios, what a waste!"

At that, the girl came over, her brilliant eyes flashing.  
"How is it that you have nothing, eh? You are rich! Anyone can tell that by your clothes, your horses!" She spat at Ricardo's feet and stalked away, anger in her every step.

"We take the horses, then, eh?" The second man asked, and both swore at him.

"We cannot! Stolen horses are too easily traced." The girl stalked back. "Looks as if you've won. Just remember that there is no key."

Ricardo had kept mostly silent up to then, out of consideration for Diego. Now, he spoke. "Do you think this is all?"

"What do you mean?"

"You fear no retribution?"

"By the time someone comes across you and you are freed, we will be long gone."

"It is not that easy…have you ever heard of the Fox?"

"Hmm?"

"El Zorro will save us," Ricardo whispered the words, but he had no doubt that they had heard him as they left, not looking back now as they scrambled off into the rocks, carrying the falcon.

"Diego, wake up!"

An easing of the chains told him that Diego was getting himself back together.

"Are—are you alright?" Diego asked in a strangled voice, obviously still under the effects of the drug.

"Ah, don't worry," Ricardo drawled and his tone took on a bitter sarcasm as he continued. "Don't you know? Zorro will save us!"

"Oh, will he? Ricardo, the sun is very bright." The first part of the sentence Diego said with insolence, the next weakly.

The chain went taut again.

"Diego!" A curse slipped past Ricardo's lips at the feeling.

After a few moments of wiggling, he seemed to succeed in jarring Diego back to consciousness.

"Come back here, you curs!" He shouted, losing his temper and not caring. "What kind of a dirty trick is this? _Ampollas percebes azules_! Infidels! Cowards!"

"All right, Ricardo! That's enough. Don't you think they're out of hearing range yet?" Diego rasped, accompanying this with a groan. "My head…Ricardo, what did the man find in your pocket?"

"Noth—oh, a hairpin."

He could almost hear the direction Diego's thoughts had to be going in and he blushed, involuntarily.

"…a hairpin?" Suspicion colored the words. "Where did you get a hairpin?"

"Never mind where. It is our only chance of getting out of these things." Ricardo shook his wrists. "Have you suddenly lost faith in my abilities? Now all we have to do is get lower. He threw it on the ground, over there, and I can still see it and if I could just get lower, I could reach it! And then I could free us. Diego?"

A moment's pause. "Let's talk about something else. Why was a hairpin—"

"Diego! What do you mean! I am trying—"

"Ricardo, what would you say if I said that I, Diego de la Vega, was the most fantastic outlaw…"

Ricardo took advantage of the rambling tone of Diego's voice, usually heard only when the man was drunk, and maneuvered himself lower, to grab the hairpin. With half of Diego's weight on the other side, this was no small feat.

Drowning out his friend's voice, he concentrating solely on finding it with his fingers, and almost cried out in relief when he did, the strain was bearing on him so hard. With a grunt, he straightened up again and started to bend the hairpin the correct way. It was much more difficult than usual, as he couldn't see what he was doing.

He felt the chain loosen, took one deep breath, and it went taut again, and this time he had to stop because of the strain.

"Diego?"

"Why was there a hairpin in your pocket? Whose hairpin?"

"What did they give you?" Ricardo snarled back. "I've never seen you act like this, not even that time we took your father's best brandy and you ended up drinking the whole bottle because it wasn't mine so I couldn't have a drop." He told this story animatedly, spreading his hands as much as possible to punctuate how grievously his feelings had been hurt then.

Diego interrupted, completely ignoring Ricardo's ten year old woes. "Whose hairpin?" He bellowed, and yanked hard on his chains. Ricardo, in his surprise, dropped the hairpin. Diego froze.

This time, he helped Ricardo get it.

This time, Ricardo ignored all the angry queries and succeeded in bending the pin; and then in manipulating the lock. He let out an audible sigh of relief when he heard the click.

After another moment, he had both manacles off, and the moment after that, he'd freed Diego, who promptly swayed forward. Ricardo couldn't catch him; because of Diego's positioning, he'd had to crouch to unlock him. Consequently, Diego fell on top of him, a complete deadweight.

Ricardo showed no mercy in shoving him off.

* * *

After a few moments Ricardo spent getting his bearings back, he glanced around him, thanking God that they hadn't taken the horses. But...where were the horses?

He got to his feet, saw that Diego was still out of it, and sighed. Bending over, he dragged Diego over to where a tree provided more shade.

Ricardo stripped off his jacket and left it lying beside Diego, as he strode off to find the horses. First things first, he whistled.

Ricardo knew how to whistle, and his horse was trained to come at the sound. He waited a moment, then whistled again, two fingers in his mouth. After a heart stopping moment, his horse finally came into view. "Viajero. Gracias," he gasped, but his horse was in no mood to be caught, and, thinking that Ricardo was in a playful mood, he galloped right past him, leaving Ricardo cursing behind.

"Viajero!" He yelled, turning, and the horse whinnied in reply, turning to face his master, but passing him by once again.

He whistled again, turning wildly to keep his horse in sight, and the sun blinded him for a moment. He turned away from it again, and Viajero came running up, rearing and neighing wildly, and when he did so, Diego's horse came back into sight, at the very edge of the horizon, or so it seemed.

Ricardo knew that Viajero planned to pass him by again, but this time he was prepared, and grabbed the bridle to swing himself up. "Good boy," he murmured, when Viajero reared in protest, meaning to forcibly eject Ricardo from his back. "Come on, boy. Calm down. We have to catch Torcedor. Hi-yah!"

And Ricardo took off in hot pursuit of the other horse, who only ran faster once he realized he was being chased. Ricardo tried the whistle again and Torcedor ignored it.

The sun beat down mercilessly. Ricardo felt the sweat drip down and knew he shouldn't be pushing Viajero like this when it was so hot out. He slowed the horse to a trot, then a walk. It was time to use wits.

Torcedor realized that he wasn't being followed anymore, and Viajero unintentionally aided Ricardo by whinnying to the other horse, who slowed and turned around to face them.

Ricardo eased Viajero forward, wishing he was a better horseman. His father had been so skilled that he could have caught them long ago. Ricardo had long wondered at his father's skill, but now was the first time he truly envied it.

He pictured his father, tall, brown and lean, walking slowly forward, whispering, and the horse he wanted would immediately pay attention. In moments, his father would be astride, no matter how untamed or wild the horse had once been.

"What was it he did?" Ricardo muttered, when his feint didn't work and Torcedor took off again. Ricardo turned Viajero sharply, hoping to cut off Torcedor, but he didn't have to. A piercing whistle came out of nowhere, and Torcedor neighed in joy at the recognition of his master's voice. Viajero noticed that his master was distracted, and reared. Ricardo went flying and hit the ground hard.

He saw stars dancing about in his eyes and the pain in his head was astonishing. He'd bit his lip and tasted the blood as he tried to sit up again. He heard the tell tale sound of hooves, and opened his eyes to see Diego above him.

Ricardo managed to stand up, and saw Diego sway in the saddle.

"Not again," he muttered, barely reaching him before his friend fell.


	3. Back to Diego

Almost Lost—Part Three

* * *

Diego came back to himself when water was splashed on his face. It came again, and he spluttered.

Ricardo was standing above him, scowling. His clothes were filthy; he looked like he'd been rolling around in the dust of the road.

"I had to catch the horses," he reminded Diego, seeing the look Diego was giving his clothes. "Not that you made it any easier. After you fell off Torcedor, it was only harder."

"I fell off Torcedor?"

"I was your cushion, remember, _mi amigo_?"

"I bet you weren't much of one," Diego muttered, and Ricardo shot him a look. "What's that, Diego?"

Diego managed to sit up. "Nothing, Ricardo. Absolutely nothing."

They were on a riverbank, and he could see the horses grazing above them. Diego reached for Ricardo's hand and Senor del Amo took it grudgingly, reluctantly pulling him up. Diego wondered how many times now that had happened.

Once up, Diego shaded his eyes against the sun. "Where's my hat?" He asked and grimaced at his dry mouth. He crouched down to get water, cupping his hands together and sighing at how much better his lips felt now._ What a taste_—it was like dry cotton. Like being hung-over.

He stood up again. "Well, that was interesting. Considering what happened, maybe we don't want to go here after all."

"Maybe?" Ricardo narrowed his eyes. "That's where I'm starting to be puzzled. Did we really ride all the way out here to preview a picnic location?"

Sense fled Diego and he forgot how hard Ricardo could hit. "Ricardo, have you ever read the tale Hansel and Gretel? It's a German tale, by a pair of brothers called Grimm."

After a moment's thought, Ricardo nodded.

"So have I," Diego said dryly. "Guess what character I fancied myself to be?"

He didn't see the punch coming, but he should have. He went careening back, landing in the mud at the edge of the stream. He heard the squelch and winced.

"Did I deserve that?" He asked, wanting to put up his hand to his aching cheek, but not daring because of the mud.

"Yes," Ricardo snapped, but again extended a hand for Diego to take hold of.

Diego took it, but once on his feet, cocked back his own fist and caught Ricardo on the nose. He also fell in the mud, and when he had struggled to his feet, he didn't hit Diego, he merely knocked him down, and they both fell into the river.

Diego hit the bottom hard, and wasted no time in landing another punch.

Ricardo groaned as he flew back, but got up very quickly and tackled Diego again, and soon they were thrashing around in the river, each trying their best to kill the other.

Diego made his way up the bank, Ricardo following, and then they fought on dry land, soon rolling around in the dust, taking every hit they could and yelling like the children they secretly still were.

* * *

Some time later, exhaustion overtook them. Ricardo missed a hit and lost his balance, toppling back over into the water, and this time he didn't climb out. Instead, he floated on his back, staring up at the sky. Diego relished not being hit every time he got up, and settled back into the mud. Really, it was turning out to be a rather nice day.

"You know, Ricardo, this is actually a rather nice place. Why _don't _we have our picnic here, instead of going all the way to San Javier?"

"And risk meeting our friends again?" Ricardo asked, splashing as he stood. His clothes were plastered to him and he gave them a look of disgust as he sloshed to the bank and stretched out next to Diego in the sun.

"I don't think we'll see them again," Diego chuckled. "What are the odds? From what I can remember, they seemed to be on the run, and those manacles weren't fashion accessories. _They_ are probably all the way to San Javier by now."

Ricardo only grunted, kicking his boots off. "Do I look as bad as you do?"

"I'd say worse. At least most of our hits didn't land on our faces, eh?"

"Yeah," Ricardo murmured, bringing a hand up to touch his nose. "Does it look bad?"

"No, it's just a little swollen. It should look fine by tomorrow."

Ricardo rolled over onto his stomach, propping his face on his hands. "Are you serious about coming back here?"

"Why not? It's even better than San Javier would have been. This river is nearer, the sky is bluer and it's a few hours ride. What's not to like?"

"The manacles were a little off putting," Ricardo said, rubbing his wrists. "There was one good thing about our fight. The marks are gone from my wrists already."

Diego inspected his own wrists. "How did you get us out?"

"I'll repeat, have you lost faith in my abilities? More importantly, have you forgotten how we got into your father's cellar? Or better yet, have you forgotten Don Nacho's cellar when we were fifteen? Now that was wine to remember."

"As a matter of fact, I have forgotten. Probably because by the time we left, we were more than a little drunk."

"Ho ho ho, no, Diego, _you _were drunk. _I _wasn't allowed to have any."

"Well, of course not. You were just a visitor. I lived in Los Angeles, and I knew the Torres family. They would have let me have the wine anyway," Diego returned, his eyes twinkling.

Ricardo's eyes narrowed in return. "I don't think they'd have let you have that much wine."

Diego grinned. "Well, maybe not quite that much."

"And your father I know wouldn't have let you drink that brandy. Surely you haven't forgotten the thrashing you got?"

"Yes, _that _I haven't forgotten." Diego flopped back down onto the ground, stretching out in the sun like a cat. "Sometimes I can still feel it."

"I'll bet. I got it too, you know. Your father knew how to handle a switch. It wasn't fair, though," Ricardo complained, rolling over again. "I didn't even drink any!"

"Yes, but like you said, you got us in."

Silence for a moment. "Why was there a hairpin in your pocket?" Diego asked innocently, and Ricardo stared back in disbelief.

"Not that again!"

"You still haven't answered," Diego reminded him, chuckling. "And seriously, I want to know." Reaching over, he tugged on Ricardo's hair, hard. "Don't tell me you've started wearing a hair piece and need them for yourself."

"You are the one with the receding hairline, my friend," Ricardo snapped back, rolling out of reach of Diego's hand.

Diego shrugged. "Then why?"

"Maybe it was one of my sisters'. I do have some, you know."

"And you make all their lives miserable, I _do _know. What I can't believe is that you'd still have it when you've worn that suit four times since you've been here and it had to have been washed in between. Then, the hairpin was sure to have fallen out. Whose was it?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Ricardo grumbled. "So stop asking."

"You are going to tell me," Diego said. "How about a wager? Or a race? If I win, I get to know. If you win, you get to keep the knowledge forever."

"But what can I choose?" Ricardo asked. "Too many things I can't be sure to win. Besides, neither of us brought swords."

"I wouldn't use those if we had," Diego said softly, and at that Ricardo sat up.

"What happened, Diego? Why not?"

Diego looked down at his hands. "A bad experience," he said, the words sliding off his tongue with ease. "It turned me off the use of them forever."

Ricardo held Diego's gaze for a long moment. "I won't press the issue," he finally said, and slouched back down.

"So, if not swords, what else? We are both too tired for another fight using ourselves as the weapons. And a race...no, that depends on the horse, not the man. It wouldn't be fair."

"To you? Yes, Torcedor is the faster horse."

"No, it wouldn't be fair to you. Viajero could beat him anytime."

"Her. Torcedor is a mare," Diego corrected. "Can't you tell?"

"No, I'm not the one that makes a habit of studying a female's anatomy."

This time, Diego slugged him on the shoulder, hard.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"That's nonsense," Diego snapped, his cheeks faintly red. "Besides, you are the one who kept crowing about Senorita De—"

"Oh, don't turn the tables on me!" Ricardo protested, his own face growing red.

"Let's just stop talking of it," Diego muttered and they assented by their mutual silence.

"You know, if you are the woodcutter, that makes me Hansel," Ricardo began.

"No, I think you'd be the birds who eat the bread."

Ricardo snorted. "Nooo. I wouldn't." He paused. "It was a good idea, though. How did you plan to lose me?"

"There was a bridge coming up," Diego began. "I planned to have you cross the bridge ahead of me, at top speed. Then I would go another way, and you wouldn't know where I was and go looking for me."

"I'm not sure it would have worked in practice, but...I wish I'd thought of it."

"I don't think you'd have been able to find someone stupid enough to go along with it," Diego retorted.

"No, maybe not. Hey!" Ricardo protested, realizing what Diego had meant.

"Now that we are on the subject of books, why did you think that Julius Caesar owned a pinto? I used to not be sure you could read, and you saying that confirms it, because nowhere in anything written about him does it mention a pinto."

"You think I can't read? Did you forget who won those ten pesos for finishing Marcus Aurelius faster?" Ricardo returned.

"I know, my tutor had a strange way of teaching."

"Whatever happened to him, anyway? He was actually a good teacher. I learned more with him that summer than I did anytime at home."

"As I said, he had a strange way of teaching that coincided with your strange way of learning. My father kicked him out."

"Why?" Ricardo asked, sounding appalled. "What was his name? I should hire him now!"

Diego only rolled his eyes. "Back to the matter at hand. Why not a horse race for the knowledge of the hairpin's ownership?"

"Because it wouldn't be fair—to either of us," Ricardo added, noticing the stubborn look on Diego's face.

Diego stood, his still wet clothes sticking to him. "Let's do it anyway. Or, Ricardo, are you...afraid? That I can still beat you?"

"Your memory seems to get worse all the time. _I _was the one to win the charity race for the mission that year."

They were heading to the horses; when Diego had started walking, Ricardo had had no choice but to follow if he wanted to continue the argument.

Diego swung himself up into the saddle, then noticed the sun again and took his jacket and tie, tossing them on the ground.

Ricardo sighed and followed suit with the tie; his jacket was already off. He mounted Viajero with a dour look on his face. "Where did our hats go?" He mused and shrugged. "At any rate, they are probably gone forever. To which point shall we go?"

Diego dismounted again to adjust his saddle. "Just to the end of the canyon," he said, distracted. "You know, losing that race was not my fault. I fell off in the middle. Something was wrong with my saddle."

"I'm just surprised you didn't suspect me, at the time," Ricardo said, watching Diego with sharp eyes.

"It was your type of trick, but you arrived almost too late to enter the race, didn't even notice I'd fallen and at the fiesta after, you expressed real regret that I hadn't been there to ride against."

"What can I say? It was too easy without you," Ricardo said, and Diego remounted.

"To the end of the canyon, eh?" Ricardo asked, watching his friend still.

"Si, _andale_!"

And they were off, both riding at a breakneck pace. Diego leaned low over Torcedor's neck, wishing he rode Tornado or Phantom. Then he' d be sure to win.

Ricardo got ahead of him, and Diego resisted the urge to distract him, but Ricardo was getting farther ahead.

"Would you like to know, Diego, why I was late?" Ricardo yelled back.

"Why? Were you pinning on your false hair?"

"No, I was paying the man I'd bribed to loosen your saddle!"

It took a moment for Diego to digest the words and then Torcedor really ran. "You aren't going to get away this time!" Diego muttered, not believing what Ricardo had said.

Two lengths, one, Ricardo was right there, he was passing him...

"Aah!" Ricardo shrieked when Diego jumped from his horse to knock Ricardo off Viajero. They tumbled to the ground in an explosion of fists and kicking and yelling.

"You liar!" Diego yelled. "You ruined that entire day for me!"

"I was twelve!" Ricardo shouted in dismay, seeing that Diego was fighting for real this time.

"I don't care if you were two! You are not getting away with it!"

* * *

By the time they made it back to Monterey, the sun had almost set. Ricardo and Diego slunk to Diego's room at the inn to clean up; Ricardo couldn't go to his cousin's house as he'd have to ride through town as he was.

Ricardo's shirt had been ripped beyond recognition in the second fight, and Diego was carrying their jackets and ties they'd shed at the start. They both were quite a sight, what with the dust and mud and dried blood in various places. Of course, the mud was everywhere, though it wasn't mud now, seeing as how it had finally dried on the ride home.

Bernardo hid his shock at seeing them thusly with difficulty, and sent for hot water with disbelieving eyes.

After baths, long ones, and after someone had been sent to get new clothes for Ricardo, they made their way downstairs for a hot dinner. Luckily, the evidence of their fight was still not very visible on their faces. Ricardo's nose's swelling was already down, and the bruise of Diego's cheek was only noticeable in light.

They ate in silence, but amicable silence. They'd more or less made up after the second fight and the only thing on their minds was the dinner, having missed lunch.

It was when they were finishing eating when Don Alejandro entered the inn, looking cheerful and satisfied. He walked straight to their table and sat down.

"Diego, we have a very good chance at scoring those steers tomorrow. Dona Rosaria was very impressed with the candy." He paused to speak to the waitress. "Brandy, _por favor_."

"Yes, she liked them, and will make sure to tell her husband that." The brandy was brought and Alejandro drank it straight. "Ah! This is almost as good as mine."

At the mention of Don Alejandro's brandy, both Diego and Ricardo choked.

"Chew your food better," Don Alejandro said distractedly. "I had dinner there, of course, and now I'm feeling tired. How did your, er, picnic go?"

Diego and Ricardo exchanged glances, and Diego said, rather hurriedly, "It went fine, father."

"You seem to have a bruise, Diego, and what happened to your nose, Ricardo?"

"The horses were antsy," Ricardo explained quickly. "We fell off in a race."

Don Alejandro nodded, and then yawned. "Well, I'm off to bed. Buenos noches."

He jumped up and jogged upstairs, passing Bernardo, who was on the way down. Bernardo seemed puzzled by Don Alejandro's exuberance and signed the question to Diego.

Diego only grinned in reply as Bernardo sat down and Ricardo finished Diego's wine with flourish. "What was that your father said about chocolate? Because it is a very good idea. Who is the best candy maker in Monterey? I should send some to Milana as an apology."

After a pause, during which Diego realized that Ricardo had finished Diego's glass of wine, he spoke thoughtfully. "Juan Cerillo. He has a shop down by the docks."

"Muchos gracias, _mi amigo_. I'll see you around, but not, uh, tomorrow. You'll be with your father and I'll be...fishing, with my cousin."

One last grin and Ricardo left. Bernardo asked Diego a question.

"Why did I direct my father to Senora Raimundo's and Ricardo to Juan Cerillo's? Well, you see, I suspect that Milana is not the only intended recipient of the chocolate." Bernardo nodded as Diego continued. "Now, Senora Raimundo always ties her boxes shut with ribbon, tightly, and anyone would know if they'd been tampered with. Juan Cerillo uses bigger boxes and doesn't tie them. I thought Zorro would have an easier time slipping a 'Z' into Juan Cerillo's box, that's all."

* * *

It was later, when getting ready for bed, that Diego told Bernardo all that had happened, and the man had all the right reactions in all the right places. By the time Diego had finished, Bernardo was almost crying with silent laughter.

"You know, I never would have chosen to be with Ricardo in a situation like that, but he was surprisingly useful, and I actually had a very good time. This situation with Anna Maria has made me forget how much I like Ricardo. To be fair though, it isn't her fault. Ricardo can make you forget all on his own that you like him. Still, I'd even go so far as to say that I would choose him again—after you, of course!"

After Bernardo had left, still chuckling, Diego walked to the window and gazed out at the sleeping town. His hands went to the tie at his throat and he made short work of it, deep in thought as he took off his jacket and started to unbutton his cuffs. Then he paused, looked up at the moonlit sky, and smiled.

"Yes, Ricardo, I would choose you if that were to happen all over again."

Still, though, a 'Z' would look stunning on the wood that Juan Cerillo used to box his candy.

* * *

The End.


End file.
